Regeneration

I was walking down the long road that takes me into town at lunchtime. The houses on one side face onto a long green and it is quiet; people habitually walk on the road itself rather than the narrow pavement and only occasionally have to make way for a car. It is the sort of place where you can’t help but observe, over a distance of several hundred metres, the comings and goings of an ordinary suburban community, particularly if people are heading in the same direction and walking at a similar pace. 

Ahead of me today was a figure in jogging bottoms, with a grey jacket and a walking stick. I laughed as I got closer as his bottoms had slid down to show what can only be described as the top of his butt crack. More alarming however was the fact that it was a slow reveal; with every pace he was showing more and more flesh until the twin orbs of his buttocks began to rise above his trouser waistline like two balloons emerging gently from behind a hill.

What I saw as I got closer was a man in grubby clothes, looking older than his years, unshaven and struggling. By now he was showing his arse quite visibly so I gently asked him if he was okay and said he might want to check his baggy bottoms. His reaction was slightly distressed but I had the sense this had happened before; he grunted a thank you and started pulling himself together.

Loss of dignity is such a sorrowful thing. What had initially made me smile had then quickly bought out a feeling of compassion and sadness for a stranger. I walked on under blues skies, within a few yards passing groups of happy people chatting by the canal towpath coffee van. The contrast was stark. For the rest of my walk I was conscious of the world around me, and aware that everyone I saw was a walking, breathing story that I could never touch or understand. 

Last night we listened to Elif Shafak talking about the importance of telling stories and listening to people rather than talking to them. And watching an interview with Tara Westover today, I was struck by her comments on orthodoxy, and the suggestion that we tend to judge according to our mindset. We all tend to live in echo chambers these days and perceive everything according to our prejudices. We live in a divided world. And some people, perhaps because they are old, disabled, mentally ill or demented, sometimes don’t know that their dignity is imperilled. We need to look out for them and for each other. 

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I officially retired today. It’s a semi-significant thing; I go back to work part time next Wednesday and will be doing a three day week. Colleagues sent me an e-card that they had all signed congratulating me. Hilarious. I love my guys.

The Dizzle and I celebrated with a beer in the local pub after work. One and a half beers actually, my first alcohol in nearly a fortnight. You have to mark these occasions, even in a time of Covid. I ate chips and onion rings as well. 

I’m a lucky man. I have more time in my life to look around and notice things going forward. I want to make the most of that.